


My Beautiful Submissive. The Mistress' Perspective

by Rose Wilder (romansilence)



Series: The Mistress Rebecca series [2]
Category: Original - Fandom
Genre: 24/7, BDSM, Bondage, Consensual, D/s, Established Relationship, F/F, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-03
Updated: 2011-09-03
Packaged: 2017-10-23 09:37:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/248869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romansilence/pseuds/Rose%20Wilder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How will Mistress Rebecca take the surprise her submissive wife has for her? Sequel to "The 14th Anniversary". It can also be read as a stand-alone story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Beautiful Submissive. The Mistress' Perspective

My reflexion in the mirror wall of the elevator carrying me up to our penthouse apartment looked tired. That was to be expected, I thought wearily, after hours of back to back surgeries and two patients dying before they even had made it on my table. I felt helpless anger at the drunk driver who had caused the multi car pile up. At least he too had died in the crash.

While I put in the code to unlock our door I envisioned myself relaxing on the couch with my wife in my arms before we would have to get ready for the annual Valentine’s Day Dinner and Ball. My beloved Sarah didn’t know it yet but tonight she would receive an award for her tireless work for the Children’s Hospital and it’s oncology wing, and she did it all with the power of the written word….

I dropped first my keys and then the box with long-stemmed peach coloured roses when I saw her kneeling there, on our couch table in plain view of the door, in tight, inescapable bondage. It was such a perfect picture of submission that I barely dared to breathe in fear to have it vanish like a fata morgana.

She knelt on the table with her knees spread wide and wetness glistening between her thighs, hands bound behind her back and the eyes downcast. Goddess, she was so beautiful. I could see the jugular vein pulsing with her rapid heartbeat and I knelt down. I took her head between my hands and lifted her chin to look into her beautiful blue-green eyes. She tried to smile around the bright red ball gag and I was so proud of her for doing this for me. I knew how much she detests gags of any kind because gags invariably let her drool, ball gags more than others.

I felt the urge to kiss her and removed the obstacle as gently as I could. She swallowed. Our lips touched. She opened her mouth to allow me access and I claimed her with teeth, lips and tongue. Even more than fourteen years after I had first seen her in an exclusive lesbian club named _Earheart_ I felt more passion for her than I ever would have thought possible to feel for a single human being.

And it’s more than just passion. I’m completely devoted to her, to my Sarah who has made me the centre of her life. I’m devoted to her and our life together and our beloved daughter.

“I love you, Sarah Eriksson-Garber,” I said and she tried to answer but her throat was too dry. That happened every time she had to wear a gag for more than an hour. Dear spirits, the sacrifices she makes for me.

I let her drink from a bottle of water I found on a side table. She drank greedily and thanked me, “I love you, Rebecca Garber-Eriksson. Happy Valentine’s Day, Mistress.”

“And to you, my love.”

I kissed her again and stroked the sides of her breasts that were bulging out of the breast harness she was wearing. I remember having seen her looking through some pictures with something similar on the internet a couple of weeks ago. She must have planned that little scene for a long time.

“Let me have a closer look at you, my Sarah.”

I kissed her on her forehead while I got up and circled the couch table and focused on the details but I didn’t touch, not yet. I knew I would do that soon. I longed to feel her skin but every work of art deserves to be properly appreciated. As soon as I no longer was in her line of sight Sarah once again lowered her eyes. It was such a simple gesture but it said so much about us, about our relationship. It moved me in ways I would not know how to describe.

I could see the strain the reverse prayer bondage put on her shoulders. I no longer could refrain from touching her. I fondled her right arse cheek and felt how she tried to press into my touch, “Don’t move, my love. Let me savour your work, your beauty.”

Sarah answered by settling down as best as she could. I traced the crotch rope up to her waist with the tip of my fingers and gently tugged at the strands running down to her big toes. She tried to stifle a gasp. I tugged a bit harder. This time a half-moan escaped her lips.

I kissed her neck, licked up to her ear and whispered, “You’re allowed to verbalise, my love, but not with words.”

I pulled the strings running through the nipple rings. She didn’t try to stifle her groan. I continued to play with both sets of ropes and was rewarded with a concert of sounds, varying in intensity and length but every one of them shooting directly from my ears to my groin.

I was wet and a part of me wanted to strip and have Sarah’s talented tongue take care of it, but that would have been too easy. There was so much more to enjoy.

Her muscles tensed with her steadily rising need. I untied the knots fixing the crotch rope to her toes and let it go slack. To have more leverage I balanced with one knee on the table and entered her with two fingers. She was so wet I could have easily accommodated all four of my fingers.

The knot from the crotch rope was still centred over her clitoris and I created a rubbing motion by pressing the palm of my hand against it. Her moans and groans were rising in volume. My free hand played with the string threaded through the alligator clamps.

Sarah’s eyes were closed and if she would have been allowed to speak she would be begging to be allowed to come and she would do it with such desperation and endearing honesty that I would have been hard pressed not to give in. Such is her power.

Dear spirits, she was so beautiful. It was hard to believe that such a perfect creature was really mine, mine alone. Yes, there were a lot of other people, of other influences and demands in our life but moments like this one belonged only to us. They were a gift she kept on giving me, selflessly.

Suddenly all those precious sounds stopped. I knew she was fighting down an orgasm and I was in awe of her will power and self-control. Adding another finger I ordered her to let go and give me her climax. It was so forceful she fought her restraints and the left nipple clamp slipped off. The sudden, unexpected pain made her cry out but also intensified her violent release.

Tears were running down her face and it made her even more beautiful. I kissed and licked them away and rocked her in my arms. I whispered soothing words in her ear until her breathing had calmed down. Goddess, how I loved that woman, my beautiful, submissive wife, my everything.

We kissed and I caressed her freed nipple with my right hand. It was meant to be gentle and soothing but the nipple was already getting hard again. Sarah was so responsive, even after close to one and a half decades it was still a marvel.

I warned her to brace herself for the other nipple clamp to come off, and this time there was nothing more than a sharp hiss as a sign of her discomfort. She was making me so fucking hot, it was unbelievable. I bent down and kissed and licked her nipples. I half expected her to press out her chest but she remembered my earlier instructions and stayed perfectly still.

I pulled the crotch rope free and undid the waist rope. There were slight discolorations and indentations from the hemp rope but nothing that wouldn’t disappear within the hour. I took the medicinal scissors that were lying next to the water bottle and cut off the base of the breast harness, effectively freeing her firm, round breasts from all restraints. As expected their bases were red and would swell up a bit over the next hour. It would make her look even more irresistible. I kissed the stripes and told her how beautiful she was and how much I loved her. She beamed at me with shining eyes. We kissed again.

Her hands were still bound behind her back. I decided that it would be the last piece of her bondage to go, “I love you, my Sarah. If we would not have to go out later I would leave you bound like this for most of the night.”

Her eyes widened and her expression told me that she had momentarily forgotten about the Valentine’s Day Charity Dinner. She opened her mouth to say something but remembered my earlier order.

“Good girl. Let’s free your legs. You’re allowed to answer my questions. It’s a quarter past five now. How long did you wait like this for me, baby?”

“Mistress Ava arrived at two thirty and left around three. So, a bit more than two hours, Mistress.”

She obviously wanted to add more but she stopped herself just in time. She had answered my question and that was all she was allowed to say.

I removed her leg restraints easily and saw with a smile how she had to flex her thigh muscles to keep her knees wide open. I helped her off the table and told her to walk in circles around the couch to get the circulation in her legs going again. Her movements were a bit jerky at first but that was to be expected with a bondage that put most of her weight on her shinbones and insteps.

I stripped quickly and sat down on the couch. I motioned for her to kneel in front of me as soon as she had recovered. I spread my legs and that was all the invitation she needed. She scooted forward and started to eat me. At first only her lips touched my skin as if she wanted to map the terrain. The lips were replaced by the tip of her tongue. She tried to clean my folds of every drop of my juices but I continuously produced more.

“Suck my clit, suck it hard,” I ordered.

She didn’t. Sarah licked my outer labia with the full length of her tongue, the right side first, then the left, right, left, right, left – and then her tongue delft into my folds, deep and quick, and for less than a heartbeat. It was agonising and heavenly. I was so wet. I only needed another small nudge to be pushed over the edge, but Sarah took her time.

I could feel her smile. She always smiled when she deliberately disobeyed an order and knew that she would be punished for it, for her and my benefit. I could have stopped her and reasserted my dominance, but everything she had done so far had been for me and I certainly enjoyed her ministrations.

After what seemed like an eternity her lips finally closed around my engorged clit but instead of sucking it her teeth scraped over the sensitive flesh, and I came. I bucked my hips but she was too experienced to let herself be disturbed by it. Sarah once again bit down, not hard enough to hurt but enough to trigger a second wave of release.

Goddess, how much I love my woman.

I let myself sink back in the couch and she started to lick me clean, slowly and reverently. The touch of her tongue was soothing and comforting. It allowed me to regain my senses.

I felt her scoot back and decided that I would allow her to choose her punishment herself. Disobedience in a social setting would have earned her a session under the cane. In a play session like this it was dependent on the situation. I also decided that it would have to wait until after our return from the Charity Dinner.

Sarah’s eyes were downcast and her knees spread. Moisture was glistening on her shaven mons. Her nipples were still red from the clamps but also still stone hard. She was sitting absolutely still but I knew that this was only due to her training and her stubborn nature. She was primed and ready to enjoy another climax. I knew that her heart was beating in her throat. It would not take more than my order to make her come again. I wouldn’t even have to touch her. My sweet Sarah was still as irresistibly delectable as fourteen years ago.

“Look at me, Sarah.” Her blue-green eyes were dilated. “You disobeyed me. You do know that you will have to be punished, right?”

“Yes Mistress. I deserve to be punished.”

“Join me on the couch, my love. I want you to decide how you will be punished, and while you do some thinking I will free your arms. Your punishment will have to fulfil three conditions: one, I will not use a cane on you; two, it has to hurt more than a hand spanking; three, it must have the potential to bring you to orgasm.”

I freed her upper arms first and then her wrists and fingers. The marks on her lower arms would soon be gone. The ones on her upper arms, however, were considerably deeper. They would take at least a couple of days to fade. I could not help but admire her foresight. When we were shopping for her dress she had insisted on a black dress with a short body hugging jacket with three-quarter arms, instead of the strapless evening gown I would have preferred; thoughtful and sneaky at once. She just had to be admired.

I massaged her fingers and arms, well aware that every touch would be painful until her circulation had completely returned. Sarah took it well, of course, after all we have done this hundred of times over the years. Since she still wasn’t allowed to speak except to answer questions she bent down and kissed my hands to thank me.

“So, what will be your punishment, my love?”

“You should beat me, Mistress, the insides of my thighs and my pussy. Beat me with a belt, preferably my father’s belt. Beat me until I beg you to be allowed to come, and then refuse me permission,” Sarah said.

“Your father’s belt? Interesting choice. We haven’t used that in years. What made you think of it?” I asked.

“I had some time to reminiscence while I was waiting for you to come home, my Mistress. My mind wandered back to our first meeting and to my first punishment at your hands. I remembered how gentle you were and how you let me get off lightly,” Sarah said.

“That’s not what you thought at the time, my love,” I replied.

“No, but I was young and stupid.”

“You were never stupid, my love, stubborn, yes, wilful, sometimes, but you also were and are a quick study. Now come. We’ll take a long shower and will only be fashionably late for our dinner,” I said.

“Do we have to go?” My beloved asked. “I’d rather stay home.”

“That’s not an option, Sarah, and I think we’ll have to add a sound spanking to your over-all punishment for speaking out of turn. Don’t you think so?”

“Yes, Mistress, a spanking sounds fair. Thank you, Mistress.”

Sarah’s playful smile told me that her supposed slip of the tongue had been quite deliberate, and I also knew why she did it. It was a gift, part of my Valentine’s Day gift, just like the bondage.

Years ago I probably would have punished her for trying to top from the bottom, and I know she still would sincerely thank me should I decide to do so. Fourteen years ago I had told her that I wanted to own her, heart, body and soul, that I wanted to control and command and protect her, every hour of every day, and now I do. I’m sure of her love and devotion. I’m sure of her submission and my dominance.

In the beginning we, I needed rituals and structures and clear rules. I needed to learn how to be a conscientious dominant and not an egotistical bastard like my father who had only been interested in one thing, his self-interest. Fourteen years ago, when I first approached my beloved Sarah I was much less self-confident than I let her believe. Now, I am sure of myself. Sarah also needed to learn. She needed to find her bearing in a way of life she only had ever dreamed about before we met.

We both had learned. Now, we still use the rituals, structures and rules. Most of them have become so natural to us that we no longer even think about them, and with the changes in our life the rules, of course, have also changed. Even a 24/7 D/s relationship like ours has to adapt with the addition of a child to the household.

The point is, we no longer need the rules to know who and what we are at any given moment. We just are. Sarah is mine and she always will be. She always will be my submissive, even when she does not call me ‘Mistress’. And I am hers and I always will be. I will always be her Mistress, even if I don’t give her any orders.

I allowed us the luxury of using up all of the hot water under the shower, and of course we did more than just wash each other. I let her brace herself against the tiled wall and took her from behind and I let her go down on me again. I also gave her a warm-up spanking before we got dressed to remind her that we still had plans for after the charity event.

While Sarah was up on the dais to receive her award I admired her lean, toned beauty. When we had first met she had been a bit chubby but regular cardio and flexibility training, the later a must to avoid injuries during bondage sessions, have changed that. My Sarah was by far the most beautiful woman in the room, and I was far from the only one who followed her graceful movements with my gaze.

The long black dress hugged her curves in all the right places. The low neckline showed her cleavage and knowing that just beneath she still had the marks form the breast harness made me more than hot. She had put up her hair with only a few tendrils curling at the side of her face. My gaze was irresistibly drawn to the diamonds I had added to her collar at our tenth anniversary.

To most people it was just a necklace she never took off, to us it was the symbol of our relationship, a platinum band with a pendant on which a big R was protectively cradling a smaller S, the initials of our first names. The stones sparkled almost as much as her eyes when she returned to our table, and propriety be damned, I kissed her as soon as she had reached me. Her eyes dilated but quickly returned to normal when she heard the applause coming from seemingly all sides. She blushed.

We did not stay longer than absolutely necessary to grease the wheels for future donations.

I peeled her out of her dress, leaving her in her high-heels and a smile. I allowed her to undress me, the fleeting touch of her fingers on my skin was heavenly. I had to really focus to get us to adjourn to the bedroom. So, I sent her to the playroom to fetch her father’s belt, a fly swatter and the big leather paddle. I did not intend to use the last two objects but it would keep her guessing. I also told her to put on her wrist and ankle cuffs though I did not plan on using them this night. It was more for the aesthetic value – and Sarah really likes wearing them.

I removed the comforter and put our pillows in the middle of the bed. I wanted her hips and pelvis elevated to have a better target area. It took only moments to arrange her on the mattress. Her hands were wrapped around the iron bars of the headboard. Her hips were resting on the pillows and her knees were pulled up and to the side, offering her nether parts in all their glistening glory.

Instead of blindfolding her as I had initially planned I put another pillow under her head. I now wanted her to see the strokes coming.

I sat on the edge of the bed and played with one of her nipples, “I’m in a generous mood tonight, my love. Do you want to count the strokes or not?”

“Thank you, Mistress. I’d like to count the strokes. If I don’t count them, I’ll slip into my head space and then it would not be a punishment any longer.”

I kissed her and picked up the old leather belt of her father. We had other belts that served the same purpose, most of them bought with disciplinarian use in mind, some evoking special memories, like the blood red belt with the braided inlays that left beautiful marks on the sensitive flesh of her breasts and inner thighs, or the black one with the wooden buckle that fit so perfectly in the palm of my hand.

None of them, however, were as special as Sarah’s late father’s belt. On our first date she had lied to me and two days later I had punished her with this belt. It had been her first punishment, the first time she had willingly submitted to me, the first time I had felt her pubic bone press against my thigh while she was draped over my lap. In a way that belt was almost as powerful a symbol of our union as her collar, even though we had not used it in years.

My first stroke hit her pussy full on, with the broad side of the belt, of course. It had not been a love tab but also not with full force. I wanted her to be as aroused as possible before it really became painful. She barely flinched. The second stroke hit my Sarah on her right thigh, the third returned to her pussy, the forth hit the left thigh – and then it started again.

When the whole area was liberally peppered with red marks I increased the strength of the strokes, not too much, but enough to elicit moans and soft yelps.

“Thirty-two,” her voice sounded slightly shaky and there were tears glistening in the corner of her eyes. Experience, however, had taught me that it took much more to get my beloved to cry openly, as least when she didn’t feel really guilty about something, and tonight she didn’t.

Tonight’s punishment was a gift to both of us, but that did of course not mean that I would go easy on her, a punishment was a punishment after all. And I would never insult her that way. Tears were staining her face when she had reached sixty and I ordered her to stop counting. Her legs were trembling with the effort to keep them open for the bite of the belt. Her breathing was ragged. The fingers holding on to the headboard were white-knuckled.

The scent of her arousal was as intoxicating as always, maybe even more so. I felt and smelled the wetness between my own thighs and was hard pressed not to get carried away by my own need.

She was almost ready, “Close your eyes, sweetie.”

After eight more strokes I ordered her to come for me. Her hips rose up to greet the strokes, her whole body shuddered. It was such a glorious visual, and at the height of her climax she cried out for me and begged for more. I complied, how could I have not; as much as she was mine, I was hers. That did, of course, not keep me from seeing her punishment through.

I gave her another eight strokes, directly on her pussy, this time; and I took my time. Every time renewed and prolonged her orgasm and I enjoyed every single second of it. Sarah still held on to the headboard, her upper body heaving, her breathing still ragged. In contrast her legs were almost motionless, her knees and legs open, still offering herself. It was such a thrill. It made me come when she shouted my name again and again.

I let the belt drop to the floor and decided to give it a special place in our play room, prominently displayed. I caressed Sarah’s sides waiting for her to calm down and regain her composure. Her eyes slowly regained their focus.

She saw me and smiled, a beatific smile, “Thank you, Mistress.”

“Your welcome, my love,” I said.

I took my clothes off, pulled up the comforter, slipped into the bed and pulled her in my arms. I pushed one of my legs between her thighs to keep the inflamed flesh of her inner thighs from touching.

Sarah quickly fell asleep. After her time spent in strict bondage and the harsh punishment she would feel for more than just a couple of days, my beloved had more than earned her rest. I quickly followed her into Morpheus’ realm but I was also the first to wake up the next morning. For our normal standards it was already quite late but we still had more than four hours before we would have to pick up our daughter from the sleepover and I fully intended to spend the time pampering my beloved, and we would start with breakfast.

 

THE * E N D


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